Tales after Dusk 02

She nods slightly. He pours the water over her back, watching the trail of blood soak into the cloth below. He dunks a smaller hand towel into the pot, lathering the bar of soap into it; without warning, he tries to wash her back as gently as he can.

She flinches at first but remains still; he can tell that it is painful, because he can see every muscle in her back tense up. As she becomes accustomed to the pain, he scrubs each cut a little harder, to ensure that it is thoroughly clean. When he rinses the soapy water out of her wounds, he sees her sway a little, shutting her eyes as if she is going to faint. Gently, he sets his hand on her bare, soft shoulder, "Are you all right?"

His touch jolts her eyes open, "I am fine," her voice says firmly.

Sev gently dabs her back with a dry towel to soak up as much of the water and blood as he can. Washing his hands first, he dips his fingers into the jar of cream and slathers it onto her back. Her skin is just as soft as it looks and he can feel the indentations of the scars under his finger tips. He wipes his hand off and covers her back with a large square muslin bandage. He hesitates, "I'm not quite sure how to secure the bandage to you."

She takes a deep breath, threading her arms back into the ruined underdress, "The cream will hold it just fine. I doubt I will sleep on my back tonight." Slowly, she rises to her feet. Crossing her arms over her chest again, so as to cover any potentially exposed skin, she turns to him, "Thank you." She adds curtly yet sincerely; though her eyes avoid his, he thinks he can detect a hint of embarrassment in her face.

Belle slowly crosses the room towards her door; halfway there, she wobbles a little. Sev rushes to her, grabbing her elbow to offer assistance, to which she snaps at him, "I'm fine."

"No you are not," he insists and sees her into her bedroom. The fire leaps into being as they enter; her bed, though nicer than any he has ever slept on before, appears to be worthy of no one more than a servant when compared to the rest of the furnishings in the house. In front of it is a simple, threadbare rug and on the other side is a tall, plain wardrobe. Though the room is large it's simple décor seems entirely out of place in this house. Making sure that she is safely seated on her bed, he finally lets her arm go.

"Thank you, by the way," he says softly, "for saving my life." He catches her milky hazel eyes and offers a grateful smile.

She nods awkwardly. If the light was better, he might be able to see her blush as she is obviously uncomfortable around him while half naked. He lingers a moment, though he is unsure why—does he want her to say something? Does he want to say something to her? Perhaps it is pity and he feels that he should help her change and get into bed? As his eyes wander over her exposed neck, he thinks maybe it isn't pity, maybe it is curiosity—what does the rest of her skin look like? What does she smell like? A touch? A kiss? Sev cuts his thoughts off, turns and leaves, shutting her door behind him.

...

Though he sleeps deep he awakens before anyone or anything in the house has begun to stir. Stretching, he sits up to find the cat curled into a ball next to the fireplace in his room. The cat wakes with a big yawn, stretching his furry arms out in front of himself. He sits on his hindquarters and begins to wash his face, "Thank you, for helping mistress last night. I was worried about her."

Sev throws the blanket aside, walking into the bathroom to get dressed, "You seem to actually care for the woman," he replies.

"Oh, very much. If it weren't for her, I would be dead."

He pulls a shirt over his head, walking back into the room, "How so?"

Cat jumps on the bed, "She saved me. Back when I was just a cat—not one that could talk—I was born the runt of the litter. My Mother didn't want me, so she carried me outside and left me in an alley to die. It was cold and wet—I can remember crying for help but no one cared. Then, mistress walked by. She passed me but stopped and turned around. I know she can be a difficult person to deal with, even cruel at times but there is kindness still in her heart. She picked me up and took me home, nursed me back to health," he pauses, tilting his head to the side, "I was there that day that the wizard died. As he exhaled his last breath, a great white flash erupted from him, hitting everything on this property, enchanting it but when my eyes returned to normal, his body was gone."

Sev looks at the cat curiously while pulling on his boots. Cat purrs, adding, "Give her a chance. With patience, perhaps you will get to know the woman I do and you can become friends."

"I'm not sure that friends would keep each other prisoner in an enchanted mansion," Sev huffs.

The cat gives him a scolding look, "You agreed to it. Apparently people in your town let each other die for no good reason—she only locked your Mother up for stealing."

Sev purses his lips, feeling somewhat foolish at being called out by a cat, "All right, I shall try."

Downstairs, he finds Belle's door half open. He quietly peeks inside. She sits with her back to the door, a hand over her shoulder as she tries to put on a fresh bandage by herself. Sev softly knocks, startling the witch.

"Let me do that," he insists as he enters.

Belle clutches her night gown to her chest, pale cheeks turning red, "I hardly think that it is appropriate," she huffs.

Sev pulls a chair over to the bed for her to sit upon, "Nothing about this place is appropriate."

Without another word she slides onto the chair. Sev can smell the soap on her skin and from her carefully brushed hair and the absent salve on her back, he deducts that she has already taken a bath. Delicately he rubs the salve into the wounds which still look angry but have stopped bleeding. From her bed, he grabs a fresh large bandage and two small rolls of long, wide bandages. He deducts that she wants the longer ones wrapped around her to keep the large one in place but in order to do that, she must be naked. Kneeling on the floor behind her, he carefully places the large bandage across her back before he starts the long one at the base of her back. He hesitates, wondering if he should reach around her, when she realizes his conundrum and holds out a hand. Placing the roll into it, together they wrap her torso up.

Knowing that she will refuse his help to dress her, he quietly rises and shuts the door behind him, before his mind has a chance to wander over the things he thought about last night. Several minutes later, he begins to wonder if he should knock when she comes out of the room. Her dress is simple, yet nicer than the one she wore yesterday. A dark green, it has a slim fit on her torso but not so tight as to cause her pain with her wounds. The top of her chest and neck are visible, with matching filigree indentations in her skin. She avoids his eyes, offering a tight smile before walking past him. He follows her though the drawing room and down the hall. Her gait is delicate; her careful consistent footing gives her the appearance of floating across the floor. With her shoulders back and her chin up, she is a very poised individual, something that comes naturally to her, where as to Sev it is something he has to remind himself of while in the company of others.

Sev sidesteps her when they reach the dining room and pulls out her chair; Belle gives him a curious look before sitting down and allowing him to push her in. As he sits down across from her, he feels that he should apologize for leaving but refrains. Given their banter last night, he thinks that bringing it up again will only elicit more bickering so instead he elects to keep his mouth shut. Breakfast continues in the same fashion as dinner the night before, mostly in silence. Every now and then they catch each other's eyes, exchange a polite awkward smile and look away so as to avoid conversation. Full of bacon, fresh bread with jam, eggs, fruit and some sweet white custard that he hasn't ever had before, Sev knows that a few more days of glorious meals like this one and his body will stop looking like a half rotted corpse. He leans back into the chair to catch his breath, when Belle finally interrupts their silence.

"What do you like to do, Sev?"

He looks up to find her smoky green eyes watching him, "What do you mean?"

"For fun?"

He smiles a little, finding her question amusing. There really was no time for fun in his old life, "I don't know," he says, "I like to read."

"Oh, what kind of books?"

He laughs at her, "I never really had a say in what kind of books, usually whatever my boss was through with and didn't want anymore."

"Oh," she says, brow furrowed as if trying to imagine what that is like, "Well then, I think I have something you will like." She offers a smile.

Despite the wicked scars on her face, Sev sees the gentle side of her trying to break through. He smiles back, finishing his orange juice.

After breakfast, Belle leads the way up the stairs towards his room but takes a right to walk a few steps down the dark hallway. She is barely visible to him by the small light coming from under his own door; she stops and turns around.

"Wait here," she instructs.

Sev squints to watch her walk down the hallway but soon she disappears into the shadows; seconds pass and he begins to wonder if it is some sort of trick, when he hears a cranking sound. To his right, sunlight bursts through, illuminating the long narrow hallway. On his left is a high stone wall. Its length alternates between large wooden doors and paintings and tapestries, with the occasional sculpture mixing it up. On his right is a row of dusty glass windows that look into a large room. Slowly, he walks down the length to find the entrance while peering through the panes to see the largest library he has ever seen; it makes the one in the Governor's house seem as if it belongs to a poor peddler.

Once he enters the room, Belle has started a fire in the fireplace, taking the chill off of the morning air. She begins to pull long white sheets off of several clusters of plush furniture. Sev stands in the entrance, taking it all in. Each side wall is covered from floor to ceiling in bookcases, each bookcase stuffed to the brim with hundreds of books of varying shapes, sizes and colors, some lined straight, some mounded haphazardly but each empty spot is crammed with a book. At least three separate seating areas are arranged with their own couch and arm chairs, low table and end tables, the bottoms of which contain more books. The top half of the far wall, much like the one that divides the room from the hall, is covered in windows while the bottom half has a long counter bookshelf. The view from the windows is astonishing, overlooking the entire front yard of the property and off into the distant winter forest.

Where a fourth seating area should be, Belle leans against a large object that remains covered by a sheet, "Well, what do you think? Practically any topic, any subject, any author—all your choice."

Sev slowly walks towards her, running his fingers along the spines of the books on a shelf, "This is truly amazing—I have never seen so many books before, all in one place. Even at the Governor's house, his library isn't even a fraction of the size of this." He stops in the seating area that opens towards Belle on one side and the fire place on the other.

She smiles, almost shyly, "Then it is yours. All of it."

"Thank you," Sev says, astonished. He walks to a shelf, examining each title; he can feel her eyes on him, "Do you read much?" he says, over his shoulder. He has found that none of the women in town enjoy reading anything more difficult than the picture stories at the general store. He wonders why someone would have such an extensive library only to keep it closed off and packed away.

"You could say that," Belle says quietly, picking a book off of a table before sitting down on the couch in front of the fire. "It is one of my guilty pleasures."

Sev selects a book, reading the first few lines before deciding that it will be a good one to start with. He turns and sits next to her on the couch, "Oh?"

"Yes," she smiles, thumbing through the book, "I've read them all. Some a few times even. Then again, I have a lot more time on my hands than most," she adds softly.

He looks at her over the bridge of his nose, "All of them? Seriously? What other guilty pleasures could you possibly have time for?" After it comes out of his mouth, he knows it is the wrong thing. He starts to try to apologize but she cuts him off.

"I've been alone here for a while but it wasn't long before I read them all. I make my own wine and ale, that helps to pass the time. I walk in the woods a lot, I draw...but after a while...I just spend most days counting down the hours," her voice has an eerie, lonely sorrow to it.

"Counting down the hours to what?" He asks softly.

She shakes her head, looking up at him with a smile to change the subject, "Oh, nothing important." The smile doesn't reach her eyes; she looks back down at the book. He can't tell if she is actually reading, or simply pretending to so as to avoid further questioning.

Sev looks down at the book in his hand, wondering about Belle. He can see why she doesn't come into town; her appearance makes it obvious that she is different. People would be terrified of her, probably try to kill her but if one can look past the outside and get to know her...he stops himself. What is it that he is feeling? Pity? Envy? She has everything a person could ever want—a large house, endless servants to wait on her every whim, a vast garden with enough food to feed a small village, perfect weather every day—but what is all of that, compared to family? Friendship? Companionship? Cat was right—inside, she is still a person and deep, deep down, that person is a kind one. Even though she imprisoned him here, could he truly blame her? After spending years alone, yearning for someone to talk to, the only way she would be able to get it was by force. He decides that his anger at being here is rather misplaced—he wasn't really doing anything at home. With him gone, there will be one less mouth to feed on Jacques' salary, which should put the three of them at a point where they will become healthy again. His Mother doesn't have to expend her efforts worrying over him anymore and it isn't like he was courting some woman. All in all, the town won't suffer anything in his absence—at least here, he can make a difference. He can make someone happy, be a friend. Deciding that he will put forth more of an effort to form a friendship with Belle, Sev finally starts reading.

...

The book is good, there is no question about it. On a normal day, back at home, he would be dead to the world until he finished every word, every sentence, every page—but now, he is living a life far more interesting than he could have ever dreamed. He is sitting on a couch, next to a cursed woman turned witch, has the company of a talking cat, in an enchanted mansion that has spring weather during the winter and is maintained by living tree servants. Though the written story before him attempts to draw his attention, he finds his mind wandering. Was Waterford truly wiped out when that wizard cursed Belle? What happened to her parents? How did she, an upper class lady, learn how to survive on her own? His eyes stroke the ink on the page but the words mean nothing.

Finally, Cat comes running in. "Lunch, is served," he says proudly.

"Is that so?" Belle asks. She sets down her book without marking the page.

"Yes, as a matter of fact it is. I had it prepared myself," he huffs, trotting out of the room. Both of them rise, stretching a bit.

"It better not be a dead rabbit," Belle mutters.

Sev follows her down the staircase; he knows her back must be bothering her a bit, because she takes care to turn her whole body when she peers into the empty dining room. He is just as perplexed as she, until he looks down the hall to the open front door; beyond it, in the sunlit yard, is a red blanket.

"Ah, a picnic," he says, leading the way to the foyer. He steps outside into the sunshine, letting the beautiful weather and perfect temperature waft over him. Beyond the gates he can see the wind ripping the idle snow around, drifting it as high as he is tall. Looking back into the house, he sees Belle still standing somewhat into the shadows, a sick look on her face. As she reaches towards a cloak, Sev realizes that she is ashamed of her face and wishes to hide it.

He steps inside and quickly extends his hand, catching hers before she can grab a cloak. She gets a shocked look on her face, eyeing him carefully.

"You won't need that, it is nice out here," he smiles, ignoring her concern. Pulling her forward, he leads her to the blanket. It is an awkward feeling, holding a woman's hand, even in friendship. Aside from his Mother, he hasn't ever done it before. It seems like such a casual act but he can feel the warmth of each of her delicate fingers against his palm, her tiny hand practically dwarfed in his.

She is nervous; there is no doubt. In the past she might have held her fair share of men's hands, perhaps even stolen a few kisses but that was so long ago, another life time, a different Belle. Sev is surprised to discover that he is not bothered by her scars as much as yesterday. He motions for her to sit, taking up the spot opposite of her, facing her. As his eyes wander over her white, marked skin, he wonders what it would be like to have something so basic as an appearance taken away.

After uncovering the basket between them, they have a wonderful lunch of cold meats and cheeses, a delight that he hasn't ever experienced. Cat provides entertainment by chasing grasshoppers. Sev takes a small sip of his wine, stomach stuffed to the brim. He tries to broach conversation with Belle, finding it difficult to come up with a topic that might not be touchy. She still avoids eye contact with him, as if she is losing the harshness that lent her confidence.

"You have a wonderful set up in your medicine room," he compliments.

This time, she glances up, "Thank you. I am surprised that you would find any interest in it."

He nods, latching onto her gaze, "Yes, it is quite impressive. It makes the pharmacy back at home seem like a rambling midwife's superstition."

She chuckles a little, "Bethel, right? That is the town you call home?"

Nodding again, his brows furrow a little, "You know it? Have you been?"

"A few times, when I was little. My father owned the Apothecary in Waterford. When I was very young, five, I think, he opened a few more shops; one was in Reddington and one was in Bethel. I went with him when he set up the store."

Shock crosses Sev's face at the possibility that he could have crossed paths with her before, "Do you remember which building it was in? It can't be the same pharmacy that is there now. I remember when my father got sick, that pharmacy had just opened in a building that used to be a bakery. It still smelled of sweets and bread."

Belle pours herself another glass, "I don't recall much of the town, I only went there a few times and father never let me wander out of his sight. I do remember it had a glass roof—he had it installed, so that certain plants could be kept alive during the winter."

"Huh," Sev finds himself astonished, "That building is still there. I never really paid attention to it when I was little but I remember it being vacant for a long time, then a man we called Delirious Joseph bought it. He grew tobacco in there, until one day he just closed the doors and never opened them again."

"Odd," she says. Her eyes break away from his as she sips her wine.

Sev knows she is starting to retreat back into herself, so he spurs the conversation again, "I have never been to Reddington. Or Waterford, for that matter. What are they like?"